


Chase

by sanyumi



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: AU, Developing Relationship, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, PINING!connor, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slut Shaming, Spatula Guy makes a come back!, has been through shit and connor drives him crazy, intern!connor, lets be real i have no idea where this is going lol, matured oliver, some drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:41:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6668143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanyumi/pseuds/sanyumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you doing anything tonight?”</p><p>“Yeah, I'm working. Late night.” He spoke curtly, rocking back on the heels of his feet as the elevator slowed and opened it's doors.</p><p>Oliver stepped out quickly, not sparing a glance back at Connor, so he missed the flabbergasted expression on the young man's face as the doors closed behind him.</p><p>[In which Connor, the new intern at some swanky ad agency, finds himself fighting for the attention of Oliver, the shy guy with glasses who works in the digital marketing and IT department.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woooow, lets give this site another go...
> 
> Ya know, I've read my fair (unhealthy) share of coliver fanfiction in the past year and am quite shocked at the lack of Confident!Oliver or Pining!Connor. I need this in my life, and I hope you do too cos it's coming! Oh baby, Connor wants that ass for more than just sex eyyy (what am I doing jfc) 
> 
> Was writing this to be a long one-shot but figured hey, lets stress myself out and make it multi-chapter :D
> 
> Enjoy!

Unpaid internships were a new thing in the ad agency Oliver worked for. For the past couple years the business would accept one intern twice a year in the video production department in exchange for college credit, rather than money (it actually helped with the constant flow of new, creative ideas). Oliver didn't work in production, but rather in I.T. and digital marketing, in the top floor hell hole, creating and managing websites, applications, and online security. But that doesn't mean he never sees the work put into the commercials and programs the agency turns out... so that also means Oliver is guaranteed to eventually meet the new interns.

This fall it's Connor Walsh, a senior in his undergrad program with a major in media production and a minor in English literature. Oliver typically doesn't bother to learn intern's last names let alone their goals and aspirations, but as he soon discovered, Connor Walsh had a terrible knack for standing out.

One month into the internship rumors began spreading around that Connor had slept with at least a dozen coworkers in the building, all male. Oliver could only guess a rumor like _that_ stemmed from truth. A few of his coworkers would lean over across the cubicle or during lunch break to whisper into Oliver's ear,

“Did you hear about the new intern?”

Oliver would roll his eyes, taking his time chewing a bite of his sandwich.

“What about him?” He'd ask disinterestedly.

An array of words had vandalized his ear drums from several employees: “Greg told me Connor blew him in the supply closet,” or “I heard moaning coming from the mens' bathroom and _holyshit_ \- that new intern was the _last one_ I saw go in!” or, the one Oliver thought would mean the end of this newest piece of office gossip, “I saw Daniel pull that intern, Connor, into his office last week...”

Daniel was the production manager, and the man who currently oversaw Connor's duties. The logical train of thought Oliver landed on was that Daniel had heard of Connor's promiscuity himself and fired the kid.

He was horribly mistaken when, the following week, Oliver ran into the brown-eyed wonder himself in the elevator. He recognized Connor Walsh, the college kid who the entire fucking building couldn't stop talking about, based on the hints dropped about what the guy looked like, and he was just as gorgeous as the whispers said he was.

Connor was lean, toned, and young. He was wearing a full suit that tailored to his body impeccably, accenting his broad, straight-as-a-board shoulders (Oliver couldn't help but double take at how utterly _professional_ Connor stood, shoulders back, feet slightly apart, chin high...), as well as those slacks hugging his tight thighs and ass. _Jesus._ Oliver forced his eyes back up and noted how his dark, thick hair was carefully gelled back, accented by a perfectly controlled beard; barely full, neatly trimmed.

He was openly staring, Oliver realized too late as he cast his eyes to the floor; Connor had turned slightly and caught him.

An agonizing silence filled the space as they stood side-by-side in the suddenly small elevator. Oliver distracted the embarrassed flush he could feel burning up his neck by taking an interest in Connor's shoes. Brown leather, black detailing, expensive looking. Where did a college kid get the money to afford-

“Hey.”

Oliver snapped up straight at the greeting, feeling his heart rate increase as those chocolate brown eyes focused on him.

The student cracked a grin; a corner of his mouth playing upward exposing teeth that should've been in a toothpaste commercial.

Oliver thought the world had stopped spinning, and he probably looked like an owl.

They stared at each other for an immeasurable amount of time, the quiet hum as the elevator traveled up grew progressively louder before fading out until all Oliver could hear was his own heart rate pounding in his ears, his breath becoming shallow.

Finally a loud ding punctuated the air, thick with tension, startling Oliver out of his stupor and finally letting the heat engulf his entire face.

The doors opened and Connor's eyes flicked down and back up to Oliver's eyes before lowering his brows, smirking and he confidently exited the elevator car without another word.

Oliver let out a long and loud sigh, relaxing against the support railing as the doors closed.

_Well then..._

Oliver pushed his glasses up his nose, shaking his head slightly and groaning at himself, irritated.

_That explained a few things._

* * *

 

It's recently been difficult for Oliver to sleep at night and he hates it.

How can a 20-something, overdressed, overconfident _college student_ who said literally _one_ word to him, invade Oliver's subconscious and create explicit, graphic wet dreams, which would then haunt him throughout his workday, preparing himself at every turn if he were to run into that stupid, handsome face.

What had that stare been all about, anyway? Oliver hastily tapped at his keyboard, hiding in the comfort of his white cubicle. Say “hey” and nothing else, what the fuck? How long had that stare even lasted?

Oliver hesitated in his typing, squinting his eyes as he truly attempted to remember how long he had been staring like a fool after Connor caught his attention and groaned again when he realized he had actually fallen into some kind of daze, like a school girl swooning over her first crush. But Connor hadn't broken the intense stare either, it was like a challenge; whoever looked away first lost.

Oliver shook his head fiercely, getting back to updating the HTML on the company's website.

 

* * *

 

It was only a matter of time, really, before Oliver would run into Connor again. A manila envelope full of production notes and storyboards had been wrongfully addressed to the I.T. Department and his boss had asked him to hand deliver it downstairs to the creative team.

After depositing the files on Daniel's desk, giving the manager a prolonged stare (wondering just _what_ went down in this room for Connor to still keep his job), Oliver turned toward the elevators, intending to get right back to work, when he was intercepted by said shitty intern.

Actually, Oliver shouldn't call Connor shitty. Maybe he does his job well and hands in his assignments on time and provides new insight to their clientele.

Or maybe he's just a shameless flirt.

He entered the elevator alone, pressing the button for his floor and waiting for the doors to close when an arm, decorated in a navy blue suit jacket, shot through the nearly impossible gap, causing the automatic doors to stutter and reopen. Oliver rolled his eyes to the ceiling, cursing his luck as a one: Connor Walsh squeezed through the opening, victorious smile in place.

“Hi there,” Connor greeted, that same grin accompanying a very obvious once-over.

“Going up?” The younger man continued, making himself comfortable as he stood near Oliver, who, for his part, managed to not flinch as Connor swayed slightly when the elevator started up and their shoulder's brushed.

This was Oliver's nightmare. Of course he'd run into Connor again, in this same stupid elevator, trying to resist the urge to embarrass himself by openly staring again. This was probably worse though, just standing next to each other, practically shaking with the restrained urge to busy his hands; fiddle with his glasses, tug on his tie. Oliver hated how this guy got under his skin for absolutely no reason besides the fact that Connor was probably the hottest, most attractive creature Oliver had laid eyes on.

It wasn't fair... how can one man just ooze confidence, superiority, sex. That was a good way to describe Connor Walsh; he radiated sex. One look into his eyes and Oliver knew he was a goner, as did all the men Connor had slept with.

Not that Connor would ever consider him for-

“I'm Connor,” the student spoke suddenly, interrupting Oliver's mulling. Oliver turned slightly, noticing Connor give his full attention, a hand outstretched.

“I work in the production department.” Oliver found it interesting that Connor wasn't tagging on that he was just an intern.

Oliver blinked dumbly before swallowing his nerves, taking Connor's hand in his own and giving it a firm shake, pleasantly noting how strong the guy's grip was for someone with smaller hands than his.

“Oliver. I work upstairs...” Oliver trailed off, trying to not yank his hand back afterwards, just letting it naturally drop before shoving both hands in his pockets.

Connor nodded, like he was giving his approval on something.

“Oliver,” Connor spoke slowly, as if to test the name on his tongue. Oliver's lips involuntarily parted at how nice that sounded, low and careful but also assertive.

Connor leaned to the side, resting his shoulder on the wall, the picture of ease as his sharp grin faded to something more conventional, but his eyes still shone with mischief.

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

Oliver cocked an eyebrow at that. No way... was this guy asking him out? Just getting right to the chase and asking about plans... Was this how Connor started all of the interactions with the guys he slept with?

That last thought brought Oliver back to the present as he turned away to stare at the elevator doors again, gathering his thoughts was easier when he wasn't getting lost in a pair of stunning _(ugh)_ brown eyes.

“Yeah, I'm working. Late night.” He spoke curtly, rocking back on the heels of his feet as the elevator slowed and opened it's doors.

Oliver stepped out quickly, not sparing a glance back at Connor, so he missed the flabbergasted expression on the young man's face as the doors closed behind him.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't that Oliver didn't want to turn down what was most likely going to be an offer of sex. God no, Connor looked like a model peeled straight off the page of a mens magazine. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't admit to daydreaming about those thin, smirking lips wrapped around his cock, or pushing that handsome face into the mattress as Oliver fucked that firm ass, curse those form fitting pants.

No, it was obvious Connor was undeniably sexy, but a part of Oliver, a stubborn and maybe smarter part, knew that sleeping with someone like Connor would only cause trouble, not to mention just being another notch in the the student's bed; another man to scratch off his “to-do” list, ugh.

Oliver rubbed his eyes aggressively underneath his glasses, pushing them up against his forehead. It was getting late, the office had closed hours ago, and the bright screen was giving him a headache. He sighed tiredly, checking the time and alarming himself at just how many hours had passed.

Not that Oliver minded much, the office had unfortunately become like a second home for him. Back at his apartment were similar white walls, a few book shelves stacked with texts he had already read, too much floor space, too big of a bed... for a single guy. Time spent at the apartment wasn't any more exciting than time spent in this corporate zoo. Oliver's coworkers had almost stopped inviting him out, probably tired of seeing a 30 year old man settling in I.T.

Oliver didn't mind, he certainly didn't feel young anymore, so what was the point in going out and trying? Rejection sucked, and after a 3-year (and counting) drought of relationships, Oliver figured maybe he just wasn't meant to find a partner. The single gene. It was a real thing.

So when Oliver made his way to the exit, a yawn tearing through his lungs, and ran into a very sleepy looking Connor Walsh, he felt just fine turning him down when the younger man asked him out for a late drink.

Because Oliver wasn't interested in a quick lay, meaningless sex, fucking. In his mind he certainly did, but the fantasies he indulged in didn't define who he was as a person. And besides, he'd already been down that road, sleeping around for fun; it's actually not that fun at all. He just fell in love too easily and had been hurt more times that he cared to admit.

Connor visibly reacted. He blinked and suddenly the tiredness faded from his eyes. Oliver ignored it, rolling his eyes and exiting the building, feeling Connor trail behind.

“Wait,” Connor's foot steps sped up before falling in tandem with Oliver's as he kept up the pace next to him.

“Why not? I mean... you are gay, right?”

Oliver almost laughed out loud. Connor had the gall to sound surprised, but also playful. Oliver was glad it was 1 AM and he was tired as fuck, allowing a little more sass into his reply than if he were wide awake.

He let his lips stretch into a wry smile in lieu of a laugh. “Someone doesn't take rejection well.”

“This isn't-” Connor spat out quickly before composing himself, running a hand through his hair. Oliver watched, slightly amused, slightly irritated.

“I'm not asking you out on a _date,_ just for a drink. You know, between adults.” Connor shrugged, gesticulating unnecessarily.

Oliver scoffed, turning a corner into the parking garage underneath the building. “I'm not thirsty,” he replied dryly, letting the unintentional double meaning hang in the air as he fished his keys from his pocket. The garage was mostly empty now, spotting his car was no trouble.

Even Connor fell silent. He slowed his pace as Oliver approached his vehicle, unlocking it and opening the door.

Oliver turned then, leaning over the door to watch what Connor would do next. If nothing else at least the intern was delicious to look at, and this facial expression he was giving Oliver was new; clearly unsure, skeptical, with that hint of playfulness, devious smile still fighting to break free. Was everything amusing to Connor, or did he just act confident to hide something? Either way, Oliver made sure to take several mental snapshots.

And to break the silence first.

“What were you doing, staying so late anyway?” Oliver asked, genuinely curious. He had mentioned to Connor he would be staying late himself, did that mean Connor waited up for him or...

Connor shrugged again, putting his elbows into it. “Better than going home to an empty apartment.”

Oliver's jaw fell at that. He knew the feeling well, and the quiet, honest tone with which Connor spoke felt real, not like a suggestion or implication, but like the kid was actually lonely.

“Mm...” Oliver offered as an agreement, looking to the floor. Another silence passed between them, but it was calmer now, less awkward.

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Connor spoke softly, catching Oliver's eyes once more. “Have a good night, Oliver.”

“You too,” Oliver replied, watching as Connor turned and headed toward the stairs leading to the next level, going to his own car, he presumed.

Oliver went home that night wondering if Connor Walsh was indeed just a normal human being, replaying that moment of honesty over and over again in his mind. It was a stark contrast to the brief meetings he'd had with the intern; suave and self assured. It made Oliver wonder what exactly ran through Connor's head, why he had bothered to ask Oliver out, and if he would try again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [be my friend on tumblr](http://www.valeriianz.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

Oliver sat in his office chair heavily, paying little attention to the squeaky sound emitting from it and yawned. He set his thermos full of strong, black coffee on his desk followed by his messenger bag, slipping out his laptop to lay next to his work monitor.

Booting up both computers, Oliver took a sip from his thermos (it was a gift from his sister, a colorful painting of a tiki holding a steaming cup of coffee stretched around the cylinder) and then took out a folder full of documents that needed to be copied and faxed today, plopping it off to the side.

Oliver resisted the urge to loosen his tie, it was 6am and he wanted to go back to sleep.

About an hour had gone by, Oliver mumbling back “good morning”s when his co-workers greeted him, typing away on his keyboard, when he saw a tall figure out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up from his computer screen and saw Daniel smiling down at him, the production manager decorated in his usual suit and tie affair. Behind him was Connor, a more sinister smile in place, which would have come off as polite to anyone else except Oliver.

He quirked an eyebrow at their presence. “Yes?”

“Hey, Oliver,” Daniel started, he turned and motioned Connor to step up, which he did, eyes never leaving Oliver's.

“This is Connor, our newest intern.”

Connor extended his hand, which Oliver almost rolled his eyes at, taking the offering anyway. “Yeah, hi, we've met actually,” he directed that last bit at Daniel, dropping Connor's hand.

“Oh good, good,” Daniel said, nodding approvingly. “Listen, Craig already approved on this, but I'd like you to train Connor for a few days, show him what digital marketing is all about.”

Oliver's eyes blew wide. Craig was _his_ boss, and screw him for putting an intern on his already heavy workload. Nevermind that the intern was Connor Walsh, whom he was desperately trying to figure out and most definitely not thinking of sleeping with.

Daniel was going on about “would you mind showing him the ropes?” and “I know you just got the promotion but hey, I think that's what makes you qualified.” along with Connor chiming in that he had a paper to write about digital marketing and it's presence in the media _blah blah blah_ , Oliver tuned them out, aggravated.

“Fine,” Oliver responded, trying to hide his indignant tone as he focused back on his computer. He ignored Daniel's “Fantastic,” line and continued to ignore them until the older man left Connor to stand in the space between Oliver's cubical and the hallway.

Oliver pretended Connor wasn't there, which was admittedly difficult to do with the student watching him like a hawk. A few minutes had gone by, Oliver typing viciously and Connor staring heatedly before Oliver finally sighed, turning in his chair.

“Well don't just stand there, do something useful.”

Connor's smile twitched, his brows narrowing. “What am I supposed to do when you're not giving me any instruction?”

“You could always ask.”

Connor scoffed, running a hand through his hair and looking around before meeting Oliver's eyes again.

“Okay, what do you want me to do, _Oliver?”_ He stretched out Oliver's name like it was a foreign word in a difficult accent. Oliver grinned.

“Well for starters,” he turned and grabbed his empty thermos. “Go to the break room and fill this up for me, please. Black coffee.”

Connor frowned. “I'm not that kind of intern.”

“Oh, right, you're the intern that blows men under the desk.” Oliver stated cheerily, following Connor's eye roll.

Connor stepped fully into the cubical, leaning down and resting his hands on Oliver's desk, speaking lowly, suggestively. “I could be.”

Well, someone was feeling bold today.

“Mm...” Oliver pretended to consider it, feeling heat pool in his lower stomach at the gleam Connor fixed him with. Okay, he might have actually considered it, letting the tantalizing image run through his brain once; his hand gripping Connor's hair, biting down moans, releasing into Connor's mouth...

Oliver composed himself quickly, his eyes probably giving everything away. He swallowed, looked away from Connor (as his smirk grew wider, sharper) and, feeling a little more grounded, faced the intern once more.

He shoved his thermos in Connor's face. “Coffee.”

After a staring contest ensued, Oliver almost shaking with the effort to appear blasé, Connor snatched the thermos with a “whatever,” leaving Oliver to stare at his ass as he walked out.

Oliver kept Connor running menial tasks during the day, mostly just keeping him out of his presence so he wouldn't be distracted, but mostly because he found tormenting the younger man to be... fun? Oliver never had power over somebody else, although this hardly counted, Connor was technically placed under his supervision.

So Oliver had Connor copy and fax the paperwork he needed, as well as sort through countless files that were long overdue. He had him backup an old laptop onto multiple disks (“No, not a flash drive Connor, are you listening to me? A disk, this thing right here.”). At one point he had Connor go into an empty cubicle and test out his digital art skills on Adobe Illustrator to create a brand logo for a client (it was complete shit). This went on for hours, some of Oliver's co-workers giving him questioning glances, probably wondering why he was treating Connor this way, like he was some high school office lackey. Oliver just continued smiling to himself, amused, especially when his lunch break rolled around at noon and Connor pulled up a chair into his small cubicle and sat down right next to Oliver as he was breaking into his leftover lasagna.

Oliver paused, considering Connor's grumpy expression and the rolling chair he was sitting on.

“Where'd you get the chair?”

“I didn't request to work up here to bring you coffee and get paper cuts,” Connor spoke quietly in a rush, irritation coloring his tone. Oliver did a double take at that.

“You asked to work here?” Oliver was dumbfounded.

“And I'm really starting to regret that,” Connor tagged on, looking elsewhere.

Oliver snickered, taking a bite out of his food, giving Connor the silent treatment as he chewed. He noticed Connor, out of the corner of his eye, giving him something between a pout and a glare.

“I don't know what you were expecting,” Oliver licked his lips, focusing his attention on the lasagna. “But this is digital marketing and I.T.,” he made a fake grand gesture with his fork wielding hand, “nerds abound, complete with computers, coffee, and lots and lots of paper.”

“I was _expecting_ to learn something, to work with you, not figure out, fucking-- Illustrator.” Connor said.

Connor was very expressive when he was frustrated, Oliver noticed. His eyebrows shooting up and his eyes focusing in on him while his hand moved back and forth. And okay yeah, maybe he shouldn't have been a bitch but Oliver figured Connor had it coming, acting so confident and sly, like he always got his way.

Connor probably did always get his way. He had such an arrogant air about him, almost strutting around the halls, smiling/smirking at everyone he passed. But Connor was polite too, in a way like he expected something in return, like he knew there would always be something in it for him; ulterior motives.

What did he expect out of Oliver? Certainly not just the specifications of his job, which could get boring as fuck. Connor was not boring. Connor seemed fun, enticing, the opposite of boring and then some.

Oliver tapped his fork against the plastic container his food was in. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, I'm not hungry, had a big breakfast.”

Oliver quirked an eyebrow at that. “What time did you start?”

Connor shrugged. “7.”

Oliver tried really hard to not sound like a concerned parent as he pushed a separate container full of fruit that he had planned on snacking on, toward Connor. “Eat.”

“I'm good,” Connor leaned back and crossed his arms.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Connor, just eat it, I'm not going to.” A lie, obviously, but Connor didn't need to know that.

Connor stared, indignant. It was almost cute. Oliver took the container and wiggled it at him.

“C'mon, it's good. Chopped it up and everything myself this morning.”

That made something shift in Connor. He eyed the container before looking back at Oliver, but he was still silent. Connor was stubborn too, of course.

“Well, if you don't take it, I'll just have to leave a note on your performance review about how badly you follow instruction,” Oliver sing-songed. It was a little condescending, if he was being honest with himself, but the guy had to eat. Oliver would bet anything Connor was a bitch when he got hungry, and he wouldn't put up with that on top of the proud, flirty attitude.

Connor grunted, uncrossing his arms and leaning back in, rolling his chair up close.

“Actually, I can follow instruction _very_ well,” he smirked, eyes narrowing.

Oliver bit his tongue to keep from grinning. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to that look. It'd been thrown at him probably a half dozen times and every one managed to get his pulse pounding.

“Yeah?” Oliver asked lowly, causing something to flicker behind Connor's eyes. “Then eat this, you'll appreciate it later.”

Connor sighed, his smirk falling into a neutral line. “Fine. But only because you're so insistent.”

Oliver would take that.

* * *

 

Oliver would eventually show Connor the company's social media accounts, explaining how every hashtag, every click, every view reflected audience flow and helped to produce a target audience. He brought up statistics and charts, some he created and some automatically generated through a program that was all letters and numbers to Connor. In between all this and Connor taking notes (he really did have a paper to write on digital marketing, who knew), they managed to exchange a normal conversation.

“Daniel said you got a promotion?” Connor asked during a lull in the marketing lesson. Now he was currently on Oliver's computer, figuring out how to calculate viewer data onto an Excel spreadsheet.

“Ah, kind of,” Oliver started, turning away from his laptop. “This floor used to just be I.T., where I started working. As the company grew, the need to expand their reach became priority so this floor is shared with marketing now.” Oliver shrugged, looking around.

Connor leaned on his hand, propped up by an elbow on the desk, giving Oliver his full attention.

“So, it was easy to transition,” Oliver continued, taking Connor's rapt attention as a cue. “I was often called over for help, and ended up learning more than I anticipated about marketing and how it works within the world of the Internet. My skills in I.T. come in handy a lot around here, so I was basically given another job title. Sometimes I work overtime but it's fine, more pay never hurts.”

“No, I imagine not,” Connor grinned. “That's pretty cool, you have a wide skill set now. And you're still so young.”

Oliver raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Connor.”

Connor sat up. “No I'm serious. I'm 23 and still figuring out what I want to do after college... it's frustrating cos, a lot of people my age or younger already have jobs in their field or have multiple internships in their arsenal... It's intimidating.”

Oliver smiled warmly, understanding. “Everyone goes at their own pace. You've got a lot of drive, it's an impressive trait to have.” Oliver said seriously.

Connor smiled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. Oliver's lips parted at how cute and unsure the gesture was. So out of character for Connor, at least what he's been portraying.

“You think so?”

“Definitely,” Oliver quickly reassured, pleased when that smile on Connor turned genuine and wide.

It was after that conversation that being around Connor became a little easier. He still acted self absorbed and dropped innuendos like they were nothing, but they began treating each other better. Oliver stopped making Connor run around the office and Connor, in turn was... well, more comfortable around Oliver, but the older man wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Because with the added comfort, came endless flirting.

For example, after a long, tedious day at work the following Wednesday, Oliver stretched in his chair, leaning back and popping stiff bones in his back and shoulders. He had groaned. Sitting in a chair for hours on end, hunched over a keyboard really did a number on your muscles. He was thinking something about how a sitting job would be terrible for him in a few more years, when he couldn't deny the itch that someone was staring at him.

Oliver turned, meeting Connor's eyes, which hadn't looked away, embarrassed or ashamed that he'd been caught staring.

“See something you like?” Oliver had teased, breaking contact from Connor's heated stare, leaning back to his computer.

“ _Something_ , alright.” He heard Connor murmur and forced himself to roll his eyes, in case Connor was still watching, but he grinned anyway.

Or the day after that, where Connor had dropped a bomb in Oliver's psyche, making his head spin and his heart leap out of his chest.

Oliver had simply asked him, “Anything else you can do?” Because Connor had finished up his duties early and he was planning on letting the intern go home early.

But Connor threw him for a loop when he responded nonchalantly, “Yeah... _you.”_

Oliver's breath caught audibly, frozen momentarily to the spot-- he had been leaning over Connor's shoulder, who was sitting in a chair playing solitaire on his computer.

Now he was definitely going home early.

“Stop that,” Oliver finally spoke just as Connor turned his head to gauge his reaction, playful smirk in place. It brought their faces far too close together, causing Oliver to snap up straight before something stupid happened, like their noses brushing, or their lips.

Connor followed in his chair, spinning it to face Oliver. “Stop what?”

“You know what,” Oliver managed to sound put-off. He was fiddling with his tie and couldn't stop. “Go home, I have nothing else for you today.”

Connor shrugged, standing from the chair and walking up to Oliver.

Oliver was suddenly glad he at had a couple inches on Connor, but it just barely kept his resolve from crumbling as the two men faced each other, having a stare down.

“I could say something about that...” Connor trailed off suggestively, his eyes flicking down Oliver's front and back up to his eyes.

“Yes, but please don't,” Oliver swallowed, his confidence swaying.

“Why not?” Connor almost whispered, his eyes lowering. Oliver's pulse kicked up when he realized Connor was looking at his mouth.

Oliver took a deep breath, gathering his wits. This was crazy, how could he let Connor affect him like this? Who was the one in charge here.  
  
“Because I said so,” Oliver spoke a little louder, keeping his voice low and even. Judging by Connor's reaction though, that was probably the wrong answer.

Connor raised his eyebrows comically high, a smile spreading up his cheeks, causing deep laugh lines that made Oliver's heart do a funny flip.

“Because you said so?” Connor repeated, closing his mouth, nodding sarcastically, mirth in his eyes.

Oliver tilted his head, regarding Connor carefully, his own eyebrows narrowed questionably behind his glasses. “Do you oppose?”

Connor brought his hands up in defense. “Oh absolutely not, _sir_ ,” he pursed his lips and dropped his hands, letting them slap against his thighs before slipping into his pants pockets. “I'll just go now.”

Oliver's eyes followed Connor as he walked around him, turning his head and keeping contact with that devious glare. He could feel something invisible pass between them as Connor's arm brushed against his, something that made Oliver's lungs constrict and his breath catch. Connor exhaled in an exaggerated sigh, turning his head forward, the warm air hitting Oliver's lips like a searing kiss, making him mentally stumble.

“Casual Friday tomorrow, right?”

Oliver managed to turn around without wobbling, his hands fisted at his sides, short nails digging into his palms.

“Yeah,” he breathed, nodding and stiffly pushing his glasses up his nose. He briefly wondered if any of his coworkers were witnessing this right now, this drawn out goodbye, if any of them could understand Connor's smooth as honey voice and the implications behind every word. His casual, cool, inviting body language; standing tall and dignified, yet slouched slightly, pelvis forward. It had Oliver looking Connor up and down, devouring every detail, like Connor was on display in an upscale clothing store.

Connor hummed, his eyes giving their own flick down Oliver's body, making the other man's breath audibly hitch.

“See you then,” Connor finally said, low and quiet, before walking away, head high.

Oliver stood glued to the spot for a few moments more before looking around, grateful he was still in his cubical and no one seemed to be lurking. He exhaled loudly through his nose, pulling his hands through his hair and scratching his scalp in frustration before turning and plopping into his chair.

Casual Friday... it was the day of the week Oliver most looked forward to. He loved coming into work fresh out of bed, not having to worry about matching suit pants and jackets, but instead lounging in his office chair in sweat pants and a t-shirt.

This particular Casual Friday didn't call for sweatpants. Oh no. Connor wasn't the only one who could be a teasing flirt, and Oliver planned on utilizing the lax dress code to his advantage. Oliver grinned at his computer, already willing the day to end, as he mentally ran through his closet options.

* * *

 

Oliver's pulse pounded in his ears as he walked into the building on Friday, aware that people were staring and doing double takes. He straightened his shoulders and walked to the elevator in long strides.

“No hoodie today, Oliver?” Michaela intercepted him, the producer for the morning show the agency hosted.

She kept pace with him, her heels clicking on the marble floor. Oliver did a quick check of her outfit, which was more “business casual” than anything else. She wore a black pencil skirt with a blue blouse, tucked in and wrinkle free. The familiarity calmed Oliver down a tad, making him smile fondly.

“You know, I'm starting to wonder if you have anything else besides dresses and suits in your closet.” He supplied conversationally, ignoring the question.

Michaela made a sound like, _nonsense._ “I enjoy looking my best for work.”

“Nothing wrong with that. But you go out like that too?” His tone was playful, it made Michaela chuckle lightly.

They reached the elevator, Michaela hitting the second floor while Oliver hit eight.

“What are you saying, you wanna go on a shopping trip?” She teased and this time Oliver laughed.

“Why not, we can wait for each other in the changing rooms and judge our outfits.”

Michaela laughed out loud, her teeth showing brilliantly white behind expensive lip gloss.

She came down from it, giggling and sighing happily. Oliver tugged at his jacket sleeves, insecurity fading into a dull voice in the back of his head.

A comfortable silence fell between them before the elevator arrived to the second floor in no time. Michaela turned, giving Oliver an approving nod.

“You look good today, Oliver,” she said honestly, tilting her head in that proud way she did before exiting the elevator car.

“Thanks,” Oliver mumbled as the doors closed.

If anyone asked, Oliver did _not_ have a hard time picking an outfit for today, his room was most certainly clean and tidy (not littered with everything from his closet and dresser drawers), but he was currently ten minutes late because he had been debating whether to put his contacts in or not.

He decided it was worth the pain.

As Oliver walked down the hall towards the break room, his hand moved to push his glasses up, from muscle memory, and embarrassingly ran his hand through his hair when all he touched was skin. His almost skin tight, navy blue V-line shirt was probably something from college that barely fit around his shoulders, let alone his broad chest (Oliver would also decline doing a light workout before work to get his muscles more defined). Oliver swore he could feel every fiber of the material as it dipped and curved around his abdomen. The slim leather jacket he wore over it was a gift from his ex that he never wore, but couldn't throw away because the thing looked so damn good... and was $500.

His jeans were a more comfortable, they were his favorite pair, which he didn't break out often. They were straight, not skinny, but they hugged his ass in the best way. It was the only thing Oliver felt reassured in; that his ass looked damn fantastic in these jeans.

Oliver took deep breaths, aware again of the silent staring his co-workers leveled him with, and tried channeling the obvious shock and curiosity into a confidence boost. He looked good, he knew he looked good, because everyone couldn't keep their eyes off him. So it was with a little snark in his step that Oliver rounded the corner into the break room, and almost fell to the floor.

There, lounging against the counter, looking entirely too good eating a bagel with one hand and checking his phone with the other, was Connor Walsh.

Oliver wasn't prepared for Connor to look even better without a jacket and tie, but there he was: maroon sweater, black skinny jeans and buckled boots. But it wasn't the clothes that had Oliver's attention, it was Connor's hair.

It was ridiculous. Long and shaggy, half heatedly flopped to one side, the brown color indicating not a trace of product in it. It looked so fluffy and freshly washed, nothing like the immaculate styling he was used to. Oliver wanted to run his fingers through that hair and pull it back, exposing Connor's neck and jaw, kissing and sucking at the skin there.

Oliver swallowed hard, shaking his head and grateful now for being late and the empty room. He sucked in a breath and headed straight for the coffee machine, which was unfortunately right next to Connor.

“Morning, Connor,” Oliver tried to keep his voice even as he opened a cabinet and reached for a mug.

Coughing, obviously coming from Connor, made Oliver shut the cabinet door quickly, concern etched in his eyes as he faced the intern.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, slowly continuing to move toward the coffee, watching Connor compose himself, his cheeks were slightly flushed from the coughing fit and his phone wielding hand was tapping his chest.

Connor sucked in a breath, staring at the floor. “I'm good,” he rasped, smiling foolishly as their eyes met. He pocketed the phone and turned to lean sideways on the counter. “Just ah, bagel crumbs.”

“I see,” Oliver grinned, focusing on pouring his coffee and not on the fact that he could see Connor's nipples protrude through that sweater.

Oliver turned, leaning back against the counter and took a sip of his coffee, peeking sideways at Connor and almost inhaling the hot liquid as he watched Connor's head lift, slowly, eyes audaciously raking up and up, until their eyes met. It was the most obvious definition of the phrase, “checking him out,” Oliver had ever seen, and had inappropriate thoughts rushing into his head, the sudden urge to drop his coffee and pin Connor to the counter and have his way with him making his fingers twitch.

“You look nice, Oliver,” Connor's eyes dragged away, down and to the side, every place his eyes landed burned, making Oliver's blood run south.

“Thanks,” Oliver's mouth was still open to say more when their eyes met again and his tongue failed him.

A thick silence passed, Oliver daring himself to let his own eyes wander in full view of Connor, down his neck and chest, slim yet firm, the defined lines down his stomach visible under the thin fabric. Oliver had to smile to himself, how they both had the same idea for something skin tight. The humorous thought brought him back to reality a little, his eyes snapping up, noting with a thrill how Connor was still giving his undivided attention, although he was taking another bite of his food.

Oliver licked his lips. “I like your hair like that, it's longer than I thought.”

Connor raised his eyebrows curiously before he smiled. It was that same, unguarded smile he gave the time they talked about Connor's future.

“Thank you,” he looked to the floor again and Oliver had to force himself to take a sip from his coffee to make sure he didn't reach forward and pull Connor in to know how that smile felt against his lips.

Connor popped the last of the bagel in his mouth, humming noncommittally before bringing his arms up, stretching long and slow and completely unnecessarily groaning as his back popped.

Oliver's eyes shot down as a sliver of skin became exposed and he was treated to just how low Connor's jeans were cut, revealing hip bones and the tiniest hint of a V-line traveling down behind the rough material. Oliver's jaw dropped and he felt himself unconsciously shift to also lean sideways on the counter, facing Connor and biting his lip as Connor teasingly tugged the sweater down.

When he got up the decency to look Connor in the eye again he was reward with an a cocked eyebrow and knowing smirk. Again Oliver had to chastise himself; how did Connor do that? Just... so effortlessly invading his thought and scrambling his brain like eggs. Wasn't he on a mission here, to make Connor suffer, for once? Make him feel what Oliver had been feeling for the past week?

Oliver wasn't ready to waste his confidence boost on gossiping co-workers. Which, by the way...

Oliver took his eyes away from Connor for the first time since he entered the room, looking around and finding the coast clear, so to speak. He stepped forward, setting his barely touched coffee on the counter and letting his hand rest against the flat surface. They were close, so close Oliver could see a little cut on Connor's jaw where he must've nicked himself shaving this morning.

“You know, you've been slacking off. Playing games on my computer, constantly on your phone...” Connor honestly hadn't been that bad, but he did check his phone a little too often. Oliver just wanted an excuse to say what was coming next, lowering his voice with a practiced edge he was only slightly embarrassed about, “So I hope you're ready for a long day, Connor,” Oliver loved the way Connor's name sounded on his tongue, and judging by the way his eyes darkened, Connor liked it too.

“I need to see more effort, show me what you can do.”

“Mm...” Connor nodded once, also stepping up, letting his own hand fall over Oliver's on the counter. A pleasant warmth materialized where they touched, as well as a sharp sting, like a current of electricity passing between their hands, shooting up Oliver's arm to the hairs on his head and down his spine to his feet, making him shudder in undeniable pleasure.

“I'll give it my all,” Connor continued, his voice like silk. “And don't worry about keeping me late, I can go all day _and_ night.”

 _Jesus._ Oliver bit his lip, _hard._ He had to leave. Right now. Before Connor looked down.

“Good, I like your determination,” he gave a strained smile. His pants were suddenly tight and he had felt himself leaning in.

He turned without another word, having enough of a brain left to grab his coffee, it was probably the hardest decision in Oliver's life but he wasn't going to give in to Connor, not here at least, where anyone could walk in (if someone hadn't already).

Oliver heard Connor groan in frustration and had to smile in victory as he tugged on his jacket to feebly hide his erection, turning to walk out of the room and quickly to the nearest bathroom to replay that groan over and over again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super duper thanks to tumblr's: yesterdayiwrote and jamesxlilyxpotter for betaing this chapter and offering suggestions!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi there, fancy meeting you here :)
> 
> I'm so happy to be back working on something AU... sorry for such a long wait. A small note: In the first chapter, I changed Connor's major to media production and his minor to English literature. Just thought it made more sense, given his internship. Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> (And Spatula Guy makes an appearance! I named him Luke... Because fuck Thomas.)

“So, what's on the agenda for today?”

Oliver jumped in his office chair when Connor all but fell against it, his hands around the back rest and his head popping over Oliver's shoulder.

Oliver's neck twitched, like he wanted to turn his head to face Connor, but could feel his breath on his cheek right now, no doubt looking over at Connor would have disastrous results. Consequences which could involve lips brushing or skulls knocking. Oliver didn't particularly care for either... though that was an obvious lie.

“Uh… ever heard of search engine optimization?” Oliver chose to ignore how close Connor actually was, how he should push Connor away or wiggle forward... anything but encourage his behavior.

Connor's answer was a purr in Oliver's ear. “Vaguely.”

“What do you know?” Oliver kept his eyes on his computer screen, but his hands had stopped moving, frozen on a wall of code.

He felt Connor shrug and shift, the chair squeaking as Connor made himself more comfortable on it, crossing his arms and pulling his face back a fraction to rest his chin on them. Oliver imagined Connor's perky ass sticking out, his lower back curved deliciously as he bent forward, draped over Oliver's chair.

“Something about getting your website found?”

Oliver chuckled lightly, finally reeling himself in and closing out of the program and pulling up their agency's home page.

“Something like that,” he murmured, opening up some Google apps as well. “SEO is constantly changing, as Google’s search algorithm matures businesses are becoming more aware of the importance of implementing whitehat solutions like content marketing and guest blogging--”

“Were you going to kiss me back there?” Connor interrupts, voice like silk brushing against Oliver's ear.

Oliver's jaw snaps shut abruptly, his blood racing as he recalled how he'd behaved less than an hour ago, flirting with Connor, letting their hands touch, leaning in...

To be honest, that wasn't Oliver's plan, but he almost gave in. There was something alluring about the college student, something that demanded attention. Connor had charisma beyond his years, it was a little terrifying, wondering where Connor would end up in 5 years, despite that small bit of insecurity he showed days ago. Because those eyes, that mouth, and that voice could get Connor anything, and he probably knows it.

Oliver swallowed and turned his head, becoming unbearably close to Connor, face-to-face, noses almost brushing. He watched Connor's lips lift in a sharp smile, that devastatingly handsome smirk that literally made Oliver's knees wobble. Thank goodness he was sitting.

“Or did you wear those ass hugging jeans for someone else?” Connor whispered, his own eyes resting on Oliver's mouth.

Oliver licked his lips and gave his own little grin when Connor audibly gasped. “What would give you that idea?”

“So you did wear them for me?”

“I wore them for myself.”

Connor closed his eyes, nodding once, and angled away. Oliver immediately missed his presence, though he felt himself relax, every muscle in his body had unwittingly tensed up, preparing for... something.

“Alright, miss strong independent woman,” Connor retorted, finally standing tall, pushing his shoulders back. Oliver swallowed spit pooling in his mouth. Was it cold in here? Why did Connor's nipples insist on protruding through the material of his long-sleeve?

“I'm going to slap you.”

“Oh, please do.” Connor winked.

The day carried on relatively normal (if you didn't count the new sensation of constantly being under someone's intentional staring). Oliver felt like a college professor the way he had to explain SEO and pay-per-click (“ _You should've learned this stuff by now, Connor.” “Yeah well, my digital comm. professor was sex on legs so I can't be blamed for losing focus.”_ ). At least Connor was listening, nodding on cue and performing well while building a mock website and creating relevant content for it. Luckily Connor was already competent in the social media aspect of marketing, Oliver wasn't surprised, it was the number one skill set highlighted on most millennial's resumes.

By the time lunch rolled around, Oliver was still hung up on that “sex on legs” comment Connor made. It had been easy to forget Connor's status, now that Oliver was constantly with him, getting to know him personally. His status of... promiscuity. Oliver remembered all at once why he was denying Connor, why he refused to give in, and feeling very foolish for dressing up for the occasion.

He could be accused of leading Connor on, which would be a new crime in Oliver's book, but they both knew what they were doing to each other; it was a game. A game of teasing and taunting, who would cave first?

Oliver sighed at the vending machine, staring at the selection of snacks. He needed sugar, chocolate maybe, something to sate the incorrigible hunger in his lower belly, something to ease his rapidly beating heart every time Connor _looked_ at him. God, he had it bad.

“Hey,” a low voice greeted.

Oliver looked over, finding a coworker hovering by his side, whose name escaped him.

“Hi,” Oliver reciprocated, giving a small smile and an unintentional once-over, looking back to the snacks once he'd realized what he'd done. He hadn't even known Connor for a week and already he was mimicking his bad habits.

“Oliver, right?”

Well now Oliver officially felt awkward.

“Yeah,” he turned to face the ebony man again, noticing, not for the first time, biceps that threatened to tear out of his sweater sleeves, which were rolled up to his elbows, revealing cords of muscle that ran up dark, smooth forearms. He was a co-worker Oliver had seen around the floor, sometimes their eyes would catch, nodding in a friendly greeting, acknowledging each other. That was the extent of most of his office relationships, though Oliver couldn't deny how his own gaze would linger on the other man at times, which was never returned. He wondered what brought him here now.

“Sorry uh,” Oliver blinked, looking to the floor to compose himself. “I can't recall your name...”

The man smiled, exposing brilliant white teeth that rivaled Connor's. “Luke.”

Oliver nodded. “Nice to officially meet you, Luke.” He stretched out his hand customarily and an obvious spark of attraction fluttered in his chest as they shook hands.

Luke's smile was soft, genuine, touching his caramel eyes. “I've heard rumors that you don't like going out, but some of our colleagues are talking about visiting that new rooftop bar on 14thstreet tomorrow night... care to join?”

“Oh...” Oliver clasped his hands together, fiddling with his fingers and wishing he was wearing his jacket right now. The only reason he hated going out was because of the expectation of actually enjoying himself, which was difficult for him as a single adult, gay man with the self esteem of burnt toast. Not to mention, how his co-workers used to try setting him up, back in the day.

“I don't know, I have a mountain of paperwork to sort out...”

Luke shrugged. “Just have your intern do it.”

_Right, my intern._

Oliver nodded awkwardly, popping his knuckles. “I'll get back to you on that.”

Luke smiled again, like he couldn't see Oliver's stiff movements. “I look forward to it.” And with an up and down flick of his eyes, he turned around, hands in his pant's pockets, and walked away.

Oliver watched him go, sighing again and scratching the back of his head before turning back to the vending machine... and leaping out of his skin when Connor was suddenly next to him.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Connor,” Oliver whisper-screamed, his hand landing over his heart and panting roughly. “You can't just pop up on old men like that.”

“You're not old,” Connor replied, tight-lipped. “The professor I banged last year was in his forties.”

Oliver's eyes rolled up, shutting them and refusing to let Connor rile him up. “What do you want, Connor?” He went back to work picking out a snack.

“Can you meet me in the single-stall bathroom at the end of the hall?”

Oliver gave Connor a double take. “What?”

“I need to talk to you.” Connor crossed his arms, brows knitting together.

Oliver stared. “You can't talk to me here, or in my cubicle?”

Connor shook his head. “Just meet me there.

With that he turned around, heading in the direction of the requested bathroom.

Oliver chewed on his bottom lip, trying to inconspicuously look around, fearful of being overheard, but everyone's work spaces were far away enough from the nook where Oliver was currently fretting.

He thought about not meeting Connor, of heading right back to his cubicle and getting back to work, dealing with the annoyed college senior when he'd eventually return. After purchasing a Snickers and walking to said work area, Oliver dropped the candy on his desk, glaring at his chair, which he should definitely sit down on.

Throwing his head back with an annoyed groan, Oliver stormed out of his cubicle, heading straight to the bathroom.

“What?” Oliver got right to the chase, crossing his arms.

Connor locked the door behind them, stepping up close to Oliver.

“If you like what you see, you can have it you know.”

Oliver blinked. “What?”

Connor's signature smirk faltered, like that night Oliver declined late night drinks with him.

“I don't know how more forward I need to be.” Connor spoke with an annoyed edge, his hands working uselessly in the space between them, like he wanted to reach out and grab Oliver.

“I know you like me, I like you, so what's the problem?”

Oliver's forehead wrinkled as his eyebrows shot up. “Problem?” he chuckled without humor. “You need to lay off.”

Connor's face contorted into something ugly and confused. “I need to lay off? More like you need to figure out what the hell you're doing; taking everything I give you, coming into work looking like a Greek god, leaving me hanging every time...” he ran a hand through his wild hair. “But instead of acting on this obvious thing we have between us, you go ahead and flirt with some guy I've never seen before.”

“I'm not like this-- I'm not like you, Connor. I don't pick and choose men to randomly sleep with, I _can't_ do that.” Oliver was whisper-yelling, fully aware that they were both still at work, where anyone standing outside the door could hear. “I can't just get whoever I want, so yes I was excited that Luke approached me and asked me out, like a decent human being. He's nice and polite, and didn't immediately try getting into my pants.” Oliver didn't know why he was defending Luke, using him to put Connor down, he hardly knew the guy. Days of sexual frustration and turmoil boiled inside Oliver and he couldn't control how unfairly he was lashing out.

Connor flinched back at the last statement, looking to the floor with a scoff. “You can get whoever you want, have you seen yourself?”

Oliver nearly resisted rolling his eyes.

“And I asked you out...” Connor mumbled.

Oliver sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “You were asking me over for sex, not a date, don't deny it.”

Connor swallowed. “So what? Sex isn't a bad thing.”

“My point still stands: I'm not like you... I don't do casual sex, I'm not some slut.”

The air in the bathroom froze, Connor's head snapping up, fixing Oliver with a lethal glare that made him recoil back against the wall.

“You think I'm a slut?” Connor's voice was quiet and dark, a razor-sharp, sarcastic grin splitting across his lips.

Connor dug his hands into his pockets, pushing his lips out in mocking consideration, nodding and looking to the floor once more. He shuffled on his feet while regret flooded through Oliver.

“You know what, fuck you.”

Oliver's heart stammered in his chest, his body going numb. One of his hands uncurled from the cage he had made around himself, and made to reach out, maybe touch Connor's arm.

“I didn't mean-”

“No,” Connor took a step back, throwing an obvious wall up. “Message received, I'll 'lay off' and go back to being the office slut that I am.”

“Connor,” Oliver tried and failed, watching Connor spin on his heel and exit the bathroom, leaving Oliver to slouch against the wall.

_Nice going, Hampton._

Oliver dug the heel of his palm into an eye, sighing harshly and tugging at his hair. He needed to apologize, he honestly hadn't meant anything by it...

Oliver dropped his hands to his thighs, shaking his head. Isn't this what he wanted? He only humored Connor because he liked the attention... he selfishly flirted back because Oliver had never felt wanted before... even if it was only for his body.

Connor had looked... wrong though, not the reaction someone would make to a simple denial, especially a man of Connor's caliber, who probably (and frequently) could get any man he wanted, gay or straight. Oliver was just another conquest, right? Just another notch on Connor's bed.

Then why did he look so disappointed, so betrayed?

Oliver pushed himself off the wall, taking a deep breath and walking out of the bathroom. He was delusional. Connor would get over it, and so would he.

Connor wasn't waiting in his cubicle when he returned, not that Oliver was surprised. He sat down, trying to channel his guilt into something productive. But after hours of mindlessly clicking through rows and rows of spreadsheets, Oliver stood up, marching over to Luke's desk and taking up his offer for drinks with coworkers on Saturday night. Because at the end of the day, Oliver wanted to feel justified. After the argument in the bathroom, Oliver remained firm in his decision that all Connor wanted Oliver for was a fuck, just something quick and easy. Oliver didn't want to be easy, despite how he'd slipped up, accidentally leading Connor on. Whatever.

Oliver went into work Saturday morning to finish what he'd put off on Friday before heading back home to freshen up for the evening. He settled to put contacts back in and wear something casual, intentionally dressing similar to when Luke asked him out... hoping to still keep his interest.

 

 

The restaurant had an urban-chic vibe to it, a perfectly square building with outdoor seating, lights, and a buzzing rooftop. Oliver confirmed to the usher outside that he was with a party and headed to the roof, catching Luke at a table with a drink already.

“Sorry I'm late,” Oliver said, taking a seat across from his co-worker and immediately looking around. “Where is everyone?”

Luke shrugged, sipping his martini. “Mingling, I suppose.”

Oliver nodded, not buying it. He drummed his fingers on the table's surface, his scanning eyes landing on the bar.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Luke was standing as he said it.

“Oh, you don't-”

“I insist,” he smiled, and Oliver shut his mouth, nodding.

“What would you like?”

“Anything with vodka,” Oliver tried smiling back, feeling fake.

He watched Luke move to the bar, eyes lingering on his back side. Even under the limited evening glow and string lights, Oliver could see the outline of Luke's toned ass through form-fitting slacks. He was gorgeous, undoubtedly, but Oliver couldn't bring himself to care about such superficial details.

Which was interesting, since Oliver had been thinking about Connor's ass for the better part of a week.

Oliver pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders as a breeze blew, making him shiver. The soft RnB music surrounding him was muffled out by various chatter, a mix of young, nicely dressed 20-somethings and regal middle-aged businessmen cooperating in the same space.

Oliver wasn't used to... hip places like this. A bar to him meant indoors, dark, warm, and crowded with TVs playing ESPN and memorabilia lining the walls... maybe a pool table in the back where men like himself rolled their sleeves up and made stupid wagers against one-another. Not that Oliver ever gave it a try. Generally, Oliver never saw himself as a social butterfly, and typically bounced a drink or two in.

While he sat there, twiddling his thumbs and wondering if this was a date, a familiar face popped up in the crowd, eyes landing on him.

“Oliver!” Michaela sang, tip-tapping in her heels towards him. Oliver stood, smiling broadly and returning the hug she threw at him.

Guess it wasn't a date after all.

Soon other staff members from the agency surrounded the table, dragging empty chairs up and taking seats with their respective drinks. Luke returned shortly, presenting Oliver with something fruity.

“Hey man, haven't seen you outside your little hole in forever. It's not February 2nd, is it?” Asher laughed at his own joke. Oliver sucked his lips in and clenched his jaw, nodding stiffly. Michaela rolled her eyes for his benefit and Wes blinked rapidly, like he couldn't believe he considered Asher a friend.

Because of the number of people seated at the table, Luke's thigh had pressed against Oliver's, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was actually kind of nice, a warm sensation amidst the cramped social activity of hanging out with your coworkers outside of work. Asher had a point, Oliver just didn't do casual outings, though that was due in part to him not having any friends... he supposed it would be more fun that way, rather than with people he worked under the same roof with.

He caught Michaela's gaze after a few drinks in, discussing clients and the new job flow, and mirrored the smile she threw at him. Maybe he'd consider Michaela a friend, although because they worked in separate sections of the agency, they hardly spoke. But she was as business forward as he was, hardworking and caring about the effort the company churned out. Although she had infinitely more magnetism and a direct way of speaking, they complimented each other. Michaela was younger than him, but she was someone Oliver could look up to.

“How's that new intern been treatin' ya?” Frank blurted out during a lull in conversion. All eyes turned to Oliver and he wanted to die.

He took a sip of his drink, another vodka something-or-other. “You mean the one Craig dumped on me?” Oliver tried to make it funny, but stared at his glass instead, hoping this subject would pass quickly.

“Oh please, like you haven't heard the rumors going around,” Laurel slurred, already drunk.

“He's disgusting,” Michaela offered in a deadpan, picking up her wine glass and tipping it back with a little more force than necessary.

Frank made a _pssh_ sound. “Nah the guy gets around, I give him kudos for that.”

“How has he not gotten fired yet?” Wes chimed in, a glass of club soda in front of him.

The conversation continued. Oliver was mortified, staring silently at his glass. He felt Luke's gaze on him and tipped his head slightly to give him a small smile, saying _I'm fine, don't ask_.

But then his heart stopped beating before falling into his stomach, because across the room was the subject of his table's loud gossiping, dressed in black and ordering a drink.

“Guys, guys _shut up he's here_ ,” Oliver hissed, calming the table down instantly.

All heads turned toward the bar and Oliver's face nearly hit the table.

“Did someone invite him?” Luke asked. Oliver raised a skeptical eyebrow at his not-date, who had curiously been silent during the Connor debate.

Everyone shook their head except Frank, who excused himself, standing up and making his way over to the student.

Oliver knew Frank couldn't be trusted.

Of course no one around Oliver was aware of the drama between Connor and him, only that he was currently working for Oliver and that they seemed “... bound at the hip,” as Frank not-so-subtly put it. Frank was the only one besides Luke who worked upstairs with them, and was actually in line for a supervisor position, which horrified Oliver but wouldn't dwell on it.

Frank gestured to their table, clearly inviting Connor, who seemed friendly enough initially, but then his eyes met Oliver's.

Oliver knew he was sitting very close to Luke, he was aware everyone at the table had fallen silent and fidgety, obviously experiencing a “speak of the devil” situation. Connor looked back to Frank, a stony mask over his face as he raised a polite hand, declining the offer and swiftly turning back to the bar.

Add another reason why Oliver Hampton doesn't like going out: a very definite possibility that he'd run into the man he was a complete asshole to.

The thought of leaving immediately flashed in Oliver's mind, he even downed the rest of his drink and fished out his wallet to cover the charge, when Laurel, ever helpful, piped up.

“What did you do?”

All eyes were once again on him, and Oliver stopped moving.

“Nothing...” Oliver spoke, like it was obvious. He put his wallet back in his pocket. He shouldn't act suspicious, there could be a million reasons Connor didn't want to sit with them, only one of them concerning anything revolving around Oliver. So he played dumb.

“He probably came out to blow off steam, like the rest of us, he is a student after all,” Oliver supplied, shrugging.

“It's not very professional to ignore the people you're working with, though,” Luke offered. Oliver huffed, watching Frank meander back to the table. The longer he hung around Luke, the more he realized he was a bore.

“Well, we've all agreed that Connor doesn't care much for professionalism.” He pulled at his collar. “I'm getting another drink.” Because he needed it, not because he wanted to try talking to Connor... try apologizing, not to at least explain his side of the story and resolve unwanted tension between them before they had to work together again on Monday. Nope.

Oliver leaned against the bar, he knew Connor saw him and was pointedly ignoring him, which Oliver could understand... he'd need another drink in him to even consider looking his way again anyway.

In the time it took to signal down the barkeep, have his drink placed in front of him, and fishing out a bill from his wallet, Oliver watched Connor, out of the corner of his eye, talking to another man.

Talking was putting it lightly. Connor was so obviously hitting on the stranger, and judging on the other man’s reciprocation, doing so successfully. Oliver watched, his chest constricting, as Connor smoothly bought him a drink, stepping that much further into his space, and whispering something in his ear, making the other man’s smile morph into something sinister.

Oliver looked away, nudging the lime wedge on his glass into the drink with his straw, attempting to compose himself. It shouldn’t make sense to feel… jealous over this. Connor was right, he had his chance, the opportunity was presented to him multiple times, and Oliver blew it. But not because he didn’t want Connor, god he wanted him so bad.

But not like this. Oliver peeked back up at the duo near him. He didn’t want what Connor was offering to this guy, to nearly every guy in his office. Oliver wanted commitment, a relationship, a fucking _date_. And unfortunately, he wanted those things with Connor.

When Connor turned his head, leveling Oliver with a knowing glare, Oliver blushed, ashamed. He always picked the worst men to fall for, to hope for. Connor had infected his brain and made Oliver wonder about the what-ifs, the possibility of being happy again, and felt like an idiot for imagining such things with Connor.

The office slut.

Oliver pushed away from the bar, leaving his untouched drink, and made a beeline towards the exit. He waved half heartedly to his group after a chorus of “Oliver, where’ya going?” before hanging his head in defeat, racing down the stairs.

If he’d looked back, Oliver would have seen Connor watch him go, chugging his drink to keep his mouth occupied, instead of calling out to him. Tipping his glass back further, hiding how his eyes softened, lingering and uncertain.

 


End file.
